Medea.

(A Fragment in Drama Form, After Euripides.)

παντων δ’οσ εστ’ εμψυχα και

γνωμην εχει γυναικεσ εσμεν

αθλιωτατον φυτον.

Persons.

Medea.

Jason.

Citizens of Corinth.

Ægeus.

Nikias.

Scene : Before Medea’s House.

[Enter Medea.]

Medea.

TO‐DAY, to‐day, I know not why it is,I do bethink me of my Colchian home.To‐day, that I am lone and weary and sad,I fain would call back days of pride and hope ;Of pride in strength, when strength was all unprov’d,Of hope too high, too sweet, to be confinedIn limits of conception.
page: 36I am sadHere in this gracious city, whose white wallsGleam snow‐like in the sunlight ; whose fair shrinesAre filled with wondrous images of gods ;Upon whose harbour’s bosom ride tall ships,Black‐masted, fraught with fragrant merchandise ;Whose straight‐limbed people, in fair stuffs arrayed,Do throng from morn till eve the sunny streets.For what avail fair shrines and images ?What, cunning workmanship and purple robes ?Light of sweet sunlight, play and spray of waves ?When all around the air is charged and chill,And all the place is drear and dark with hate ?Alas, alas, this people loves me not !This strong, fair people, marble‐cold and smoothAs modelled marble. I, an alien here,That well can speak the language of their lips,The language of their souls may never learn.And in their hands, I, that did know myselfEre now, a creature in whose veins ran bloodRedder, more rapid, than flows round most hearts,Do seem a creature reft of life and soul.If they would only teach the subtle trick
page: 37By which their hearts are melted into love,I’d strive to learn it. I am very meek.They think me proud, but I am very meek,Ready to do their bidding. Hear me, friends !Friends, I am very hungry, give me love !’Tis all I ask ! is it so hard to give ?You stand and front me with your hostile eyes ;You only give me hatred ?Yet I knowYe are not all unloving. Oft I seeThe men and women walking in the ways,Hand within hand, and tender‐bated breath,On summer evenings when the sky is fair.O men and women, are ye then so hard ?Will ye not give a little of your loveTo me that am so hungry ?

Enter Ægeus and Nikias, on the opposite side. Medea steps
back on the threshold and pauses.]

Ha, that word !’Tis Jason’s name they bandy to and fro.I know not why, whene’er his name is spoke,Once name of joy and ever name of love,I wax white and do tremble ; sudden seizedWith shadowy apprehension. May’t forbodeNo evil unto him I hold so dear ;
page: 38And ever dearer with the waxing years :—For this indeed is woman’s chiefest curse,That still her constant heart clings to its loveThrough all time and all chances ; while the manIs caught with newness ; coldly calculates,And measures pain and pleasure, loss and gain ;And ever grows to look with the world’s eyeUpon a woman, tho’ his, body and soul. [She goes
within.]

[The two citizens come forward.]

Nikias.

I, in this thing, do hold our Jason wise ;Kreon is mighty ; Glaukê very fair.

Ægeus.

An ’twere for that—the Colchian’s fair enough.

Nikias.

I like not your swart skins and purple hair ;Your black, fierce eyes where the brows meet across.By all the gods ! when yonder ColchianFixes me with her strange and sudden gaze,Each hair upon my body stands erect !Zeus, ’tis a very tiger, and as mute !
page: 39

I perceiveThe Colchian on the threshold. By her looks,Our idle talk has reached her listening ears.

[Enter Jason. Medea reappears on the threshold.]

page: 40

Nikias.

Let’s draw aside and mark them ; lo, they meet.

[The two citizens withdraw, unperceived, to a further corner
of the stage.]

Medea.

’Tis false, ’tis false. O Jason, they speak false !

Jason.

Your looks are wild, Medea ; you bring shameUpon this house, that stand with hair unboundBeyond the threshold. Get you in the house.

Medea.

But not till you have answered me this thing.

Jason.

What is this thing that you would know of me ?

Medea.

O I have heard strange rumours—horrible !

Jason.

Oft lies the horror of a tale in the earOf him that hears it. What is ’t you have heard ?
page: 41

Medea.

Almost, for fear, I dare not give it tongue.But tell me this ? Love, you have not forgotThe long years passed in this Corinthian home ?The great love I have borne you through the years ?Nor that far time when, in your mighty craft,You came, a stranger, to the Colchian shore ?O strong you were ; but not of such a strengthTo have escaped the doom of horrid death,Had not I, counting neither loss nor gain, Shown you the way to triumph and renown.

Jason.

And better had I then, a thousand times,Have fought with my good sword and fall’n or stoodAs the high Fates directed ; than been caughtIn the close meshes of the magic webWrought by your hand, dark‐thoughted sorceress.

Nikias.

Did you mark that ? Jason speaks low and smooth ;Yet there is that within his level tones,
page: 42And in the icy drooping of his lids(More than his words, tho’ they are harsh enough),Tells me he hates her.

Ægeus.

Hush ! Medea speaks.

Medea.

O gods, gods ; ye have cursed me in this gift !Is it for this, for this that I have striven ?Have wrestled in the darkness ? wept my tears ?Have fought with sweet desires and hopes and thoughts ?Have watched when men were sleeping ? for long daysHave shunned the sunlight and the breaths of Heaven ?Is it for this, for this that I have prayedLong prayers, poured out with blood and cries and tears ?Lo, I who strove for strength have grown more weakThan is the weakest. I have poured the sapOf all my being, my life’s very life,Before a thankless godhead ; and am grown
page: 43No woman, but a monster. What availCharms, spells and potions, all my hard‐won arts,My mystic workings, seeing they cannot winOne little common spark of human love ?O gods, gods, ye have cursed me in this gift !More should ye have withheld or more have giv’n ;Have fashioned me more weak or else more strong.Behold me now, your work, a thing of fear—From natural human fellowship cut off,And yet a woman—sick and sore with pain ;Hungry for love and music of men’s praise,But walled about as with a mighty wall,Far from men’s reach and sight, alone, alone.

Nikias.

Behold her, how she waves about her armsAnd casts her eyes to Heaven.

Ægeus.

Ay, ’tis strange—Not as our women do, yet scarce unmeet.

Nikias.

Unmeet, unmeet ? But Jason holds it so !
page: 44Mark you his white cheeks and his knitted brows,What wrath and hate and scorn upon his face !

Jason.

Hear me, Medea, if you still can hearThat seem so strangely lifted from yourself :But I, that know you long, do know you well,A thing of moods and passions ; so I bearOnce more with your wild words and savage gests,Ay, and for all your fury speak you fair.You say you love me. Can I deem it so,When what does most advantage me and mineYou shrink to hear of ? For I make no doubt,Fleet‐footed rumour did anticipateThe tidings I was hastening to bear,When you, wide‐eyed, unveiled, unfilleted,Rushed out upon me.Know then this once more :That I have sworn to take as wedded wifeGlaukê, the daughter of our mighty king,In this, in nowise hurting you and yours.For you all fair provisions I have made,So but you get beyond the city wallsBefore the night comes on. Our little ones—They too shall journey with you. I have said.
page: 45And had I found you in a mood more mild,Less swayed by savage passion, I had toldHow this thing, which mayhap seems a thing hard,Is but a blessing, wrapped and cloaked aboutIn harsh disguisements. For tho’ Kreon ruleTo‐day within the city ; Kreon dead,Who else shall rule there saving I alone,The king’s son loved of him and other men ?And in those days Medea’s sons and mineShall stand at my right hand, grown great in power.Medea, too, if she do but controlHer fiery spirit, may yet reign a queenAbove this land of Corinth. I have said.

Nikias.

Well said.

Ægeus.

But none the better that ’twas false.

Nikias.

I’d sooner speak, for my part, fair than true.Mark Jason there ; how firm his lithe, straight limbs ;How high his gold‐curled head, crisped like a girl’s.
page: 46And yet for all his curled locks and smooth tonesJason is very strong. I never knewA man of such a strange and subtle strength.

Ægeus.

The Colchian speaks no word ; and her swart hands,Which waved, a moment since, and beat the airIn mad entreaty, are together claspedBefore her white robe in an iron clasp.And her wild eyes, which erst did seek the heav’ns,And now her lord and now again the earth,Are set on space and move not. The tall shapeStands there erect and still. This calm, I think,Is filled with strangest portent.

Nikias.

O ye gods,She is a pregnant horror as she stands.

Ægeus.

She speaks ; her voice sounds as a sound far off.

Medea.

As you have said, O Jason, let it be.
page: 47I for my part am nothing loth to breakA compact never in fair justice framed,Seeing how much one gave and one how much.For you, you thought : This maid has served me well,And yet may serve me. When I touch her palmThe blood is set a‐tingle in my veins ;For these things I will make her body mine.And I, I stood before you, clean and straight,A woman some deemed fair and all deemed wise ;A woman, yet no simple thing nor slight, By nature fashioned in no niggard mould ;And looked into your eyes with eyes that spake :Lo, utterly, for ever, I am yours.And since that you, this gift I lavish laidLow at your feet, have lightly held and spurned—I in my two arms, thus, shall gather it upSo that your feet may not encounter itWhich is not worthy for your feet to tread !Yet pause a moment, Jason. Haply nowIn some such wise as this your thoughts run on :I loved this woman for a little space ;Alas, poor soul, she loved me but too well—It is the way with women ! Some, I think,Did deem her fierce ; gods ! she was meek enough,
page: 48Content with what I gave ; when I gave notNothing importunate.Ah, Jason, pause.You never knew Medea. You forget,Because so long she bends the knee to you,She was not born to serfdom.I have kneltToo long before you. I have stood too longSuppliant before this people. You forgetA redder stream flows in my Colchian veinsThan the slow flood which courses round your hearts,O cold Corinthians, with whom I long have dweltAnd never ere this day have known myself.Nor have ye known me. Now behold me free,Ungyved by any chains of this man wrought ;Nothing desiring at your hands nor his.Free, freer than the air or wingèd birds ;Strong, stronger than the blast of wintry storms ;And lifted up into an awful realmWhere is nor love, nor pity, nor remorse,Nor dread, but only purpose.There shall beA horror and a horror in this land ;Woe upon woe, red blood and biting flame ;
page: 49Most horrid death and anguish worse than death ;Deeds that shall make the shores of Hades soundWith murmured terror ; with an awful dreadShall move the generations yet unborn ;A horror and a horror in the land.

Jason.

Shrew, triple‐linked with Hell, get you within.Shame not my house ! ’Tis your own harm you work.

And by his side, his daughter ; both caught upIn sudden toils of torment. With his griefJason is all distraught ; behold her deed,The swift and subtle tigress !

Ægeus.

Woe ! Alas !Woe for the state, woe for our Kreon slain,For hapless Glaukê, for our Jason, woe !But three times woe for her that did the deed—Her womanhood sham’d ; her children basely wrong’d.

Nikias.

Hold back our pity till the tale be told,For never was there horror like to this.Ere now in Corinth, haply, you have heardHow she did use for her crime’s instrumentsThe tender boys sprung from great Jason’s loins ;Bidding them bear the garments wrought in HellAs bridal gifts to grace the marriage mornOf gold‐hair’d Glaukê. Serpent ! Sorceress !

Ægeus.

Alas, consider ; so the tigress springs
page: 51When that her cubs are menaced. ’Twas her loveThat wrought the deed—evil, yet wrought for love.

Nikias.

Spare me such love. I never yet could deem,Ev’n ere the horror, that Medea heldThe love of human mothers in her breast.For I have seen her, when her children playedTheir innocent, aimless sports about her knees,Or held her gown across the market‐place,Move all unheeding with her swart brows knitAnd fierce eyes fixed ; not, as is mothers’ wont,Eager to note the winning infant ways,A‐strain to catch the babbling treble tonesOf soft lips clamouring for a kiss or smile.And once I marked her (’twas a summer’s morn)Turn suddenly and, stooping, catch and strainOne tender infant to her breast. She heldHer lips to his and looked into his eyes,Not gladly, as a mother with her child,But stirred by some strange passion ; then the boyCried out with terror, and Medea wept.
page: 52

Ægeus.

Your tale is strange.

Nikias.

Stranger is yet to come.How that the Colchian did send forth her sons,Innocent doers of most deadly deed,Has reached your knowledge. When the deed was done,And the dead king lay stretched upon the floorClutching his daughter in a last embrace,Arose great clamour in the palace halls ;Wailing and cries of terror ; women’s screams ;A rush of flying feet from hall to hall ;The clanging fall of brazen instrumentsUpon the marble.The two tender boys,Half apprehending what thing had befallen,Fled forth unmarked, and all affrighted reachedThe house of Jason, where Medea stoodErect upon the threshold. From afarSounded and surged the fiercely frighted roarOf the roused city, and, like waves of the sea,Grew nearer ev’ry beating of the pulse.Forth from the inmost chambers fled the slaves,Made fleet with sudden fear ; the little ones
page: 53With arms outspread rushed to the Colchian,And clung about her limbs and caught her robe,Hiding their faces.And Medea stoodCalm as a carven image. As the soundOf wrath and lamentation drew more near,The pale lips seemed to smile. But when she sawHer children clinging round her, she stretched forthOne strong, swart hand and put the twain away,And gathered up the trailing of her robe.I saw the deed, I, Nikias, with these eyes !Then spake she (Zeus ! grant that I may not hearSuch tones once more from human lips !). She spake :“I will not have ye, for I love ye not !”Then all her face grew alien. Those aroundStood still, not knowing what she planned.Then she Forth from her gathered garment swiftly drewA thing that gleamed and glinted ; in the airShe held it poised an instant ; then—O gods !How shall I speak it ?—on the marble floorWas blood that streamed and spurted ; blood that flow’dFrom two slain, innocent babes !
page: 54

Ægeus.

O woful day !

Nikias.

Then brake a cry from all about : a wailOf lamentation. But above the soundA fierce long shriek, that froze the blood i’ the veins,Rang out and rose, cleaving the topmost cloud.

Ægeus.

O evil deed ! O essence of all evilStealing the shape of woman !

Nikias.

After thatAll is confusion ; from all sides surged upThe people, cursing, weeping. ’Thwart the dinEach other moment the strained ear might catchMedea’s name, or Jason’s, or the King’s ;And women wailed out “Glaukê” through their tears.Then sudden came a pause ; the angry roarDied down into a murmur ; and the throngGrew still, and rolled aside like a clov’n sea.
page: 55And Jason strode between them till he reachedHis own home’s threshold where the twain lay dead,Long gazed he on their faces ; then he turnedTo the hush’d people ; turned to them and spake :(His face was whiter than the dead’s, his eyesLike to a creature’s that has looked on Hell)“Where is the woman ?” Lo, and when they soughtMedea, no eye beheld her. And no manHad looked upon her since that moment’s spaceWhen steel had flashed and blood foamed in the air.Then Jason stood erect and spake again :“Let no man seek this woman ; blood enoughHas stained our city. Let the furies rendHer guilty soul ; nor we pollute our handsWith her accursèd body . . .”

Here let me rest ; beyond men’s eyes, beyondThe city’s hissing hate. Why am I here ?Why have I fled from death ? There’s sun on the earth,And in the shades no sun ;—thus much I know ;And sunlight’s good. Wake I, or do I sleep ?I’m weary, weary ; once I dream’d a dreamOf one that strove and wept and yearned for loveIn a fair city. She was blind indeed.They say the woman had a fiend at heart,And afterwards—Hush, hush, I dream’d a dream.How cold the air blows ; how the night grows dark,Wrapping me round in blackness. Darker tooGrows the deep night within. I cannot see ;I grope with weary hands ; my hands are soreWith fruitless striving. I have fought with the FatesAnd I am vanquished utterly. The FatesYield not to strife; nay, nor to many prayers.
page: 57Their ways are dark.One climbs the tree and graspsA handful of dead leaves ; another walks,Heedless, beneath the branches, and the fruitFalls mellow at his feet.This is the end :I have dash’d my heart against a rock ; the bloodIs drain’d and flows no more ; and all my breastIs emptied of its tears.Thus go I forthInto the deep, dense heart of the night—alone.